


Contrary to, or Disregardful of, the Rules of Logic  … (or as Jim Kirk would say, Screwy)

by NixDucky



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Oneshot, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixDucky/pseuds/NixDucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock needs help understanding an old Terran song (but perhaps not as much help as he makes out). </p><p>Can be read as TOS or AOS (however who can blame me if, in my mind, I picture Zach Quinto and Chris Pine?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contrary to, or Disregardful of, the Rules of Logic  … (or as Jim Kirk would say, Screwy)

**Author's Note:**

> Sigh. Star Trek. Yup. I don't think there'll be a lot of Trek Fic coming out of me, the voices aren't right in my head. But this one wouldn't stay in my head.
> 
> I love BookwormBaby2580, because she reads and improves all my stories regardless of the fandom.
> 
> Special thanks to Malianani for reading and giving me her valued opinion and encouragement, and also to ATONAU for her opinion, corrections, encouragement and scientific knowledge. I blame you ladies entirely :-)

 

_… Folks in Siam do it_

_Think of Siamese twins…_

Spock came out of his meditation slowly, feeling restored, his thoughts well organized, ready to face another day of productive, albeit restful (unless Jim had planned another “relaxing” activity such as yesterday’s parasailing) day of shore leave. His time sense told him that he had been meditating for three point five three hours, which was slightly longer than he had planned, but the results were pleasing.  Spock felt at optimum efficiency.

_Romantic sponges they say do it_

_Oysters down in Oyster Bay do it…_

Spock had risen, and was walking toward the fresher ( _Bathroom Spock. This is a full, en-suite, sunken tub included, bathroom.  We’re off the ship for two weeks. Whee!_ ) when he realized Jim was singing.  This was not unusual.  Spock was rather fond of Jim’s singing.  However, when he had initiated his meditation cycle, Jim had been asleep, spread out on the bed as if he could win a prize for covering the most mattress space one humanoid body was capable of.  And although he had rolled toward Spock as Spock had left the bed, he had remained in a deep sleep.  Indeed, Spock had expected him to remain sleeping for a minimum of one point seven hours after his meditation was complete, considering their strenuous physical activities during daylight hours the previous day, and no less strenuous, although far more pleasurable, physical activities during the majority of the previous night.  He was surprised that Jim was already awake, cheerily singing and apparently making breakfast, if Spock’s superior olfactory sense could be trusted — which it could.  He could clearly make out the satisfying aroma of blueberry muffins, something Jim had introduced him to on their last visit to Iowa, as well as spice tea.  Spock took a moment to appreciate the obviously jovial tenor of Jim’s mood.  Thinking back to their last disastrous mission, he had begun to doubt if Jim would ever slip out of his… “funk” he believed was the term Doctor McCoy had used.  He vowed to ensure Jim’s good mood persisted, and undertook to investigate methods to improve it, if possible.

Spock completed his ablutions efficiently (in no way hurriedly — rushing through a process was illogical and resulted in poor success — he merely made the most productive use of his time) in time to hear…

_Electric eels_

_I might add do it_

_Though it shocks em I know_

_Why ask if shad do it_

_Waiter bring me shad roe_

…which was, surprisingly, one of the more perplexing strings of words to ever leave Jim’s mouth. This was impressive, considering.

Forgoing footwear for now, Spock walked quietly to the small kitchen which formed approximately half of the lounge space in their beach-front bungalow. He leant his hip against the counter-top and took in the undeniably agreeable view of Jim’s posterior encased in soft, form fitting denim, as he bent over to remove something from the oven, and softly sang,

_...Goldfish in the privacy of bowls do it_

_Let’s do it_

_Let’s fall in love_

…ending off the last word with a flourish of enthusiasm, as he turned around and almost dropped the blueberry muffins he held in a muffin-pan with his mitted hands.

“Aaargh!”

Spock lifted an eyebrow, while Jim put the muffin-pan down on the top of the cooking unit, and dramatically put a hand on his own chest.

“Holy shit, Spock! I nearly died.  If death by muffin burns hadn’ta done it, the heart-attack surely woulda.  We’ve talked about bells, haven’t we?”  By now, Spock had realized that Jim’s speech patterns grew more colloquial in direct proportion to the positivity of his frame of mind.  As such, this sentence satisfied Spock immensely.

“I see no purpose in wearing a miniature hollow metal instrument constructed for the purpose of producing sound around my neck, Jim. We have spoken about this, yes.  I find your persistence in repeating the topic tiresome.  Furthermore, you were in no danger of expiration, I assure you.”  Spock raised his other eyebrow, and knew Jim would see the gesture as the smile that it was.

Satisfied when Jim grinned back at him, Spock asked, “May I enquire as to what you are doing?”

Jim took a step back from the cooking unit and gestured toward the cooling muffins. “I would’ve thought that was obvious, Mister Spock.”

“Not the baked goods, Jim. What are you singing?”

Jim lifted a muffin from the pan, broke off a piece and popped it in his mouth, before breaking off another and holding it out to Spock. Spock stepped forward and closed his mouth around Jim’s fingers.  “Oh, the song?  It’s an old song from a few centuries ago.  I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind.  It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Spock gave Jim a look that very clearly said “cute” had variable definitions and Spock was certain none of them pertained to that song.

“Oh come on, Spock. It’s all lovey dovey and stuff.”  Jim shrugged.  “I like it.”

“Notwithstanding the perplexing addition of the term for an avian species to the, I presume, diminutive of the word “love”, I have no objection to the musical composition of the song, nor, indeed, to your partiality for it. I am merely confused with regard to the lyrics.”

Jim took a moment to work all that out, before giving a loud “Ha! Yeah I guess the words are a little screwy.  Wait, lemme find the whole song for you.  There was one singer with the weirdest name, and a rather weird voice to be honest, but her version is my favorite.”  Jim picked up his PADD before changing his mind.  “Oh wait, wait.  Let’s take the muffins and stuff to the couch.”  He shoved the PADD into the back pocket of his jeans, stuffed the rest of the muffin in his hand into his mouth and started taking the others out of the muffin-pan and putting them on a plate.  “You grab the drinks.”  He nodded toward the Andorian coffee-press and tea pot arranged on a tray with two mugs.

Spock took the tray and followed Jim to the couch, where he was setting the plate down on the coffee table, and put the tray down next to it. Jim was already biting into another muffin as he pulled out his PADD and sunk down into the couch.  Spock recalled that Jim had described the couch as “squishy” and shook his head fondly.

Spock delicately picked up another muffin and bit into it, placing it carefully on his knee while he poured Jim coffee and himself a mug of tea. Jim had once again omitted plates or eating utensils, but Spock was getting used to eating with his hands — at least, around Jim.  He inhaled the strong aroma of his favorite tea, took a sip, and set the mug back down on the coffee table, feeling eminently satisfied with life in general.

“Okay, I found it,” Jim declared triumphantly. “Her name was Eartha Kitt.  Man, the things parents inflict on their kids.  Although, I guess it could have been a stage name… Whatever, here, listen.”  Jim set the PADD down on the table and reached for his mug and another muffin as the playful strains of violins emanated from the PADD.  And then Spock heard a sweet, yet sultry (Spock didn’t even know how that combination was possible) voice begin to sing.  At the first few lines he opened his mouth, but Jim held up a hand to stop him.  That hand then formed into one finger, held up while the entirety of the song played out.  As it ended, with the singer repeating “Let’s fall in love,” Jim moved his hand to take another muffin, sat back and said, “I presume you have questions, Mister Spock,” with a very obvious twinkle in his eye. 

Spock hadn’t thought a way of improving Jim’s already joyful mood would present itself so quickly. He was always wary of allowing Jim’s enthusiasm to run amok, and with good reason.  But in this case, under the present circumstances, he decided this would be a Very Good Thing.  It was time to “up the Spock factor.”  Spock also thought it might be time to cease taking so many McCoyisms to heart.

“I think I have parsed the overall meaning of the piece. However, yes, I do indeed have questions.”

Jim gestured with his hand for Spock to continue.

“Firstly, ‘Birds do it, bees do it,’ I presume this refers to the Earth adage referring to the act of sexual congress as ‘the birds and the bees’?”

“Well done Mister Spock! Well, technically, the song is referring to falling in love, only.  However, taking into consideration the fact that it was considered impolite to discuss, let alone sing about um, ‘sexual congress,’ ” Jim’s grin grew, “we can assume that, yes, the song is implying sex as well as falling in love.”

Spock nodded, “Indeed. However, the phrase ‘educated fleas’ is troubling.”  Spock looked up and gave the eye-roll equivalent eyebrow raise at Jim’s now very wide grin.  While he was pleased with Jim’s enjoyment of their discussion, he would not be able to eat sufficient breakfast with his mouth in that position.  “Fleas cannot _be_ educated, even in the most optimistic sense.  And while I will defer to the fact fleas do indeed procreate, I sincerely doubt any feelings of fondness for one another accompany the act.”

Jim’s shoulders were shaking very slightly now.

“Furthermore, while I understand the mention of previously recognized nationalities, thereby inferring that all human beings regardless of cultural affiliation do ‘It’, I find the mention of Siamese twins to be culturally and generally insensitive, as such beings were suffering from birth defects, is that not so?” This was indeed troubling and Spock frowned a little.

Jim was turning a rather alarming shade of red. Spock put some effort into _not_ huffing.

“Additionally, to surmise that ‘Boston beans do it’ is erroneous in the extreme, as the edible nutritious seeds of various plants of legume, do not ‘do it’ in any way similar to the means in which members of the kingdom Animalia procreate.”

It was entirely possible that Jim was choking. Spock chose to ignore him, checking off on his fingers, “Aquatic sponges have never, to my knowledge, shown any inclination toward romantic behavior, bivalve mollusks do not have the means to exhibit, or indeed feel, enjoyment or dislike for the act of procreation, and marine coelenterates are rather industrious within their particular biorhythm, contrary to the lyrics of this song.  The verse regarding _Electrophorus electricus_ and _Alosa sapidissima_ is, frankly ludicrous.  I have no objection to the line regarding _Parophrys vetulus_ ,” at Jim’s confused expression, Spock supplied “English sole” before continuing, “and in fact, appreciate the susurrated alliteration, however to assume that goldfish have any privacy, or indeed require it, is absurd.”

At this point, Jim had rolled over on to his side and was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his face. Spock allowed himself a very put-upon sigh, as he reached for his mug of now not-so-steaming tea and proceeded to enjoy his breakfast while Jim regained his calm.  The things he did for his bondmate were really above and beyond.

Eventually, Jim sat up, took a deep breath, grabbed the last two muffins and stood, holding out his hand to Spock. Spock took it and stood, pleased to see that Jim’s color was returning to normal after nearing fuchsia.  He was very satisfied with the results of his teasing.  There was value in the bewildering human behavior after all.

“Mister Spock, I love you very much indeed. Now, let’s go ‘do it,’ ” Jim waggled his eyebrows and pulled Spock toward their bedroom.  Spock allowed Jim to pull him along.  He rather believed he always would, and found he was exceptionally content with that particular state of affairs.

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
